Thicker than Water
by GrangerGirl92
Summary: Laurie Strode is approaching the twentieth anniversary of that fateful Halloween night with dread. As October is upon her, how will she deal with the painful memories and a sudden realization that someone is watching her? This fic acknowledges the Jamie Lloyd timeline as well as following the H20 timeline to some degree.
1. No Use Crying Over Spilled Blood

_Oct. 1, 1998_

Somerset was a quite little town, nestled just outside the heart of Illinois. The only difference between it and Haddonfield was its history; so dull and lifeless. As far as Laurie Strode was concerned, that was enough. All she wanted was a safe place to hide with her son John, and Somerset fit the bill.

Laurie awoke in a haze on this Monday morning, just like all the mornings that had come before. She usually operated on three hours of sleep and considered herself lucky if she got five.

She hit the snooze button, trying to muffle the blaring horn of her alarm clock, but it was no use. The sun that peaked through her window blinded her with its rays. It must've been a tag-team challenge.

Laurie slowly sat up, wiping the cold sweat off her forehead. By now it became routine for her to wake up numerous times throughout the night, screaming, as she tried to outrun her past. But last night's strayed from the usual set. To Laurie it seemed more like a premonition than a memory.

She put it out of her mind as she got up and stood before a floor length mirror. Noticing her blue pajama top was also drenched, she took it off and threw it on the bed, leaving her in nothing but her grey bottoms and a blue sports bra.

Laurie sighed. She barely recognized the woman in the mirror. Physically, she was still as lean as she was at seventeen, but the spark that had once illuminated her younger self had long been dead. 'I guess that's what happens when you're running for your life,' Laurie said.

Turning slightly, she examined the decades old scar, which her brother had bestowed upon her left arm. Laurie closed her eyes, fending off the haunting memories that longed to flood her psyche. "Not today."

She dressed in a black and tan pantsuit with matching black pumps. Her mid-length light brown hair was pulled back into a bun, and she accentuated her features with the appropriate makeup. Laurie certainly looked the part of a headmistress of a private school, although she didn't feel like one.

As she entered the kitchenette, John greeted her with a warm cup of coffee. He had already finished his breakfast and was dressed for school.

"Good morning mom," he said, handing her the coffee. "How'd you sleep?"

Laurie graciously took the cup from her seventeen-year-old and sighed.

"Oh, you know…" she answered, not wanting to go in depth on her trauma induced insomnia. Besides, John knew enough.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I just wish I could help you ease the pain."

Laurie smiled. How she ever ended up with a son like John she didn't know.

"Do you want something else to eat? I can cut up some fruit," she offered.

"Sure." John opened the fridge and took out a cantaloupe. He placed it on a cutting board and turned to attend to the dishes.

Laurie chose a medium sized knife to cut with. She held the melon with her left hand and cut into the center with her right. The knife sliced through it like butter.

Over by the sink, John continued to unload the dishwasher. He gripped a wine glass and turned towards his mom.

"Don't forget to the change the calendar," he mentioned.

"What?" Laurie replied.

"The calendar. It's the first of October."

These words rang through Laurie's mind like a school bell, distracting her from the slicing. It only took a split second before she noticed the red viscous running from her index finger.

"Mom?" John said, wondering why she hadn't responded to his comment.

Laurie winced. The cut was small but her nerves were on high alert as a familiar memory flashed before her eyes:

 _Terrified, she backed into a corner of the upstairs hallway; having just discovered the corpses of her two best friends sprawled about the bedroom. Laurie sobbed uncontrollably, failing to notice the boogeyman hiding in the dark corridor behind her. He emerged slowly, his white mask becoming clearer as Laurie turned around. She screamed in horror as a butcher knife sliced her left arm…"_

Laurie's consciousness faded with the memory as she hit the kitchen floor.

"Mom!" John exclaimed, alerted by the sudden thud.

He knelt by his mother's body, slightly shaking it, as he tried to wake her up.


	2. Memorial

Laurie drifted in and out of consciousness as the gurney rolled along the hallway of Somerset Memorial Hospital. Her hand throbbed underneath the blood-soaked bandage as she forced herself to stay awake long enough to make out where she was. This must be heaven, she thought, believing the hospital staff and patients to be spirits draped in white scrubs and gowns, as they seemed to glide along the waxed floor. The nurses hovering above her whispered something indistinct and Laurie wondered if it was important.

They rolled her into room 17 as Nurse Morgan dispatched Dr. Chase. He entered the room.

"Assistance to transfer," Nurse Morgan informed him. Dr. Chase stood before Laurie's feet and instructed Nurse Morgan to hold her head as Nurse Katie rolled down the bed sheets.

"Ready? 1…2…3," he counted as they swiftly but carefully lifted their patient off the gurney and onto the bed.

Dr. Chase requested an IV drip. Nurse Katie prepped her left arm, wiping it with rubbing alcohol and gave the 'all clear' signal. The needle entered deftly, as Nurse Morgan applied the IV tube.

"There, now she can get some fluids in her," she said, putting away the kit.

"Any next of kin?" Dr. Chase asked.

"Her son drove her here. He's in the waiting room," Nurse Katie replied. "What should we tell him?"

"Nothing for now. We'll know more when she's conscious," the doctor instructed.

He opened the door for the two nurses and they exited the room.

Laurie awoke to a familiar beeping sound that wasn't her alarm clock. Her eyes peeled open, trying to take in her surroundings. She distinctly remembered the last time she was in the hospital – to give birth.

 _August 31, 1981_

 _The doctors and nurses fluttered around Laurie as the contractions became more frequent. She grabbed hold of her husband's hand and screamed as Jimmy tried to console his wife. "You're almost there!" Laurie nodded in reassurance as the doctor instructed her to keep pushing. Complying with the orders, she wondered if there was extra pain involved for twins…_

"Laurie, Laurie!" a voice called out. The memory slipped away as she traced a feminine outline with her retinas.

Nurse Morgan stood by the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"What time is it?'

"A little after noon. It's still October 1st."

"John?"

"I can bring him in if you want?"

Laurie nodded.

"I'll be right back," Nurse Morgan said as headed to the waiting room.

Opposite the bed on the far wall, Laurie noticed a wide window that looked out into the hallway. It was just a plain window, but she couldn't take her eyes off of it, as she stared at her reflection. She only looked away as two bodies entered the room.

"Mom!" John said, pulling up a nearby chair.

"I'm fine," Laurie said, reassuring her son.

Nurse Morgan consulted Laurie's chart.

"It says here you were prescribed Zoloft?" she asked.

"Yes…um…for nightmares," Laurie admitted. "I see a psychiatrist once a week. When I was seventeen my brother tried to kill me."

Nurse Morgan tried to disguise her reaction to no avail.

"It's okay, it was headline news in Haddonfield."

"Look, can my mom go home now?" John asked, trying to hurry it along.

"She's responded to the IV drip and seems to be coherent, but we need to run a few more tests. We believe she sustained a concussion when she fell, Nurse Morgan informed them, but if everything goes well, she should be home by tomorrow."

"Great," Laurie said, trying to sit up.

"I take it you don't like hospitals?"

"They have their moments," Laurie joked.

Nurse Morgan motioned for John to leave the room.

"She'll be just fine," she reassured him.

No sooner did they leave did Laurie's gaze jump back to the window. It seemed to be calling her name, although there was nothing exceptional about it. It was an ordinary faux-glass pane. Laurie seemed to stare beyond her reflection this time, into an invisible void until a familiar face began to take shape.

She quickly pressed the emergency button as John and Nurse Morgan rushed back in. Panicked, Laurie clung to her son.

"He's here!" was the only thing she could manage to utter, pointing at the window.

"Who's here?" the nurse asked, noticing that there were only three reflections.

"My brother, Michael Myers!"


	3. Shallow Graves

_Oct. 7, 1998_

The October wind chilled Laurie to the bone, as she scanned the perimeter of the graveyard. Although it was early in the morning, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of foreboding. Her eyes darted from one tree to the next, trained to spot his familiar outline and that eerie blank face, both of which were etched in her memory. Brown leaves rustled as they shed from the trees, but the coast was clear.

Laurie pulled her blue pea coat a little tighter and knelt before her daughter's grave. She placed a bouquet of lilies against the stone, as she read the epitaph for the thousandth time: _Jamie Lillian Lloyd, Beloved Daughter, 1980-1995._ A mixture of sadness and rage hit Laurie in the pit of her stomach. How dare he take her from me, she thought, as she cupped her hands over her face to catch her dewy tears.

She knelt, sobbing in memoriam for what seemed like eternity, until another sense overwhelmed her. Laurie lifted her flushed face from her hands and scanned the graveyard once more. She knew this sense all to well; the foreboding twinge was back. But as her gaze again darted from tree to tree, stone to stone, she failed to notice the looming shadow towering above her.

Laurie jumped at the realization of a hand on her shoulder and quickly turned around. Her twinge faded, though, when she saw who was standing before her.

"Dammit John! You scared me to death!" Laurie snapped at her son, her heart skipping a beat.

"Sorry mom, I didn't mean to scare you."

Laurie nodded and put a reassuring hand on the 17-year-old's shoulder.

"It's ok," she said. "But what are you doing here?"

"I was driving by on my way to school and saw you crying. Are you ok?" John asked. His face showed a true concern for his mother.

"Yes honey. I'm fine," she answered, wiping away some tears.

John didn't like being patronized.

"You're lying. It's about _him_ isn't it?" he questioned.

"That's none of your concern", Laurie said, trying to shield Jamie's headstone from John's view.

"Dammit mom! I'm not a little kid anymore! I can handle the truth," John pleaded, becoming more impatient.

"I know you can, but it doesn't mean you should!" she yelled, her voice breaking.

"Believe me, if you knew the depths of what your uncle did…" at this Laurie dropped to her knees, clasping her right palm over her mouth, and sobbed once more.

Heartbroken, John embraced his mother, whose body convulsed with each mournful tear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he said, as he lifted her chin with his hand so their eyes met.

Laurie's face was flushed red and wet. John had never seen his mother in this much pain before. He took her hand and they slowly stood together.

"C'mon, let's get out of here" he said as Laurie nodded.

She placed her head on her son's shoulder as they walked back to the Jeep, unawares of the onlooker hiding just beyond the trees.


	4. Psychosis (Part 1)

_Oct. 8, 1998_

The Jeep rumbled as Laurie turned the ignition key. Outside the air was crisp but the wind had died down from the day before. She turned her car heater up just a bit and took a sip of her morning coffee. She needed it after the night she spent tossing and turning; twisting her bed sheets into a knot. She examined her droopy eyelids in the rearview mirror, outlining them with her index finger and sighed. I guess this is why I have a psychiatrist, Laurie joked to herself, as she put the car in reverse and headed to her appointment.

Laurie had been seeing Dr. Ray Wallace for about five years now. He diagnosed her with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and prescribed Zoloft for the nightmares. They had a standing appointment, every Saturday at 10:00 am. So far Laurie had been making steady progress.

The drive into town was quick, but Laurie knew that traffic would cause delays. She turned on the radio only to be met with static on all the channels except one – 91.7- the Oldies station, of which Laurie was not a fan. She turned the dial to the 'off 'position and glanced in the rearview mirror. She almost fainted, though, when she saw the car driving behind her: a brown station wagon with the words " _Smith's Grove Sanitarium"_ painted on the side.

Laurie rubbed her eyes, hoping it was another nightmare, but the car remained behind the Jeep.

"No… it can't be," she said, squinting to get a better view. She couldn't make out the person in the driver's seat, but she could swear it was a man.

"Get a grip Laurie! It's not possible. Michael Myers is dead," she told herself, although she struggled to believe it. She looked in the review mirror again. The car was still there. He was following her.

Laurie's heart rate increased as she began to panic. Her mind raced, spewing out every possible explanation, but none were convincing. The Jeep started to drift in and out of the lane as the twenty-year-old nightmare took over her psyche once again:

 _She cowers in the upstairs closet of the Doyle residence, terrified to even breath, when an eerie shroud of silence overwhelms the room. Why is this boogeyman after me? she ponders, as she is jolted from her false sense of security. The shutter-like closet doors begin to violently shake, as Laurie tries to back up farther against the corner, but it's no use. One by one the wooden shutters explode on impact as the boogeyman punches his way through the flimsy barricade…_

"NO!" Laurie screamed, as she was jolted from her nightmare. Her palms steadily gripped the steering wheel as she turned to avoid a collision, braking just in time to miss a street lamp. The Jeep halted to a stop, causing Laurie to be pushed foreword and her head to collide with the top of the steering wheel.


	5. Psychosis (Part 2)

"Damn," she cursed as her forehead throbbed in pain. Suddenly she remembered the station wagon as her eyes pierced her rearview and side mirrors, but it had disappeared. She collected herself and made her way back to the main road.

Laurie entered the psychiatrist's office and signed her name on the check-in sheet.

"Oh Laurie, Dr. Wallace is waiting for you. Right through these doors," the receptionist said, gesturing towards the familiar plaque hanging on the cream door.

"Thank you," Laurie said. She nodded to the receptionist and made her way into the office.

Dr. Wallace sat in his black suede chair jotting some notes on a red piece of paper. He acknowledged his patient's presence with a hello.

"Sorry I'm late. I got in an accident," Laurie said, taking a seat in the auburn suede chair opposite the doctor.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Wallace asked, the concern very overt in his voice.

"I'm fine," Laurie said, trying to expedite the session.

Dr. Wallace nodded and gave Laurie's chart the once-over. He scribbled some indiscernible notes and turned his attention towards the woman sitting opposite him. After a bout of silence, he finally spoke.

"How are the nightmares?"

Laurie shifted in the chair as she felt the twinge of a headache return.

"They're better, less…uh…vivid than before," she said, as she rubbed her forehead. She kept her gaze pointed at the doctor's feet.

The doctor nodded, encouraging Laurie to keep talking.

"Before I would see him so clearly, as if he was really there, you know? I felt his breath on my skin; I felt his presence. I felt the hot blood trickling down my left arm…" Laurie shook herself out of the haunting memory and continued.

"But now, he's more like a faded outline, a blur, as if he were really…"

"Dead?" Dr. Wallace finished Laurie's thought. She nodded slightly but couldn't bring herself to utter that word.

"Good. That mean's you're progressing. And who knows, with a stronger prescription and a few more visits, you may be able to wipe it from your memory completely" he said as he jotted down some numbers next to the medication column.

"What if…" Laurie said, faintly, barely able to get the words out.

"Yes Laurie?" he urged, the rim of his glasses peaking over the top of the chart.

"What if I don't want to forget?" Laurie asserted, raising her gaze as her eyes met with Dr. Wallace's.

"Why wouldn't you want to?" the doctor replied, puzzled at his patient. "Isn't that why you're here?"

A second bout of silence filled the office.

"He's alive," she uttered; amazed her tongue let it slip out for the universe to hear.

Dr. Wallace removed his glasses and rubbed his furrowed brow.

"Laurie, we've been over this time and time again. Your brother is-

"I saw him!"

"Hallucinations are a normal side effect of PTSD, Laurie," Dr. Wallace said, trying to reassure his patient.

"I wasn't hallucinating! He was driving behind me in a brown station wagon!" Laurie pleaded.

"You told me yourself you saw him burn up in the Haddonfield Memorial Hospital fire."

"The paramedics never found his body," she countered, steadying her gaze.

"That doesn't mean-

"I'm not crazy! I know what I saw!" Laurie stood now and frantically paced the room.

"And that's why I can't forget," she continued. "I know he's still out there and he'll find me. He always does! And my only chance of survival is lodged in every horrific nightmare I've ever had – they're like blueprints. I know how he operates. If I wipe it clean, I might as well be dead!"

Laurie sat back down, attempting to fight back the tears.

"I'm not crazy, Dr. Wallace. You have to believe me!"

"I do believe you Laurie, but it is my job to ensure the well-being of your mental health," the doctor replied as his heart sank. He desperately wanted to believe this woman sitting before him, but the facts just did not add up.

Laurie wiped the tears from her cheeks as she accepted the box of Kleenex from Dr. Wallace.

"I think that's enough for today. Will you be alright Laurie?"

She nodded. "I have half a prescription left. I'll take it if needed."

"Make sure you do," Dr. Wallace advised, as he stood and opened the door for his patient.

"And Laurie," he added as she turned back to acknowledge him. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

"I will," Laurie said.

She exited the office as the door closed behind her. She felt bad for lying to her psychiatrist, but she knew what was coming. And if she were going to die, she would die fighting.


	6. Smith's Grove

_December 24, 1973_

Smith's Grove Sanitarium was hardly ever overrun with visitors except during Christmastime. Most families stayed away eleven months out of the year until good tidings and guilt persuaded them to stop by, visiting with their 'ailing' relatives – as they put it- in exchange for good karma.

But there was one patient in Smith's Grove who hadn't ever had a visitor. Perhaps it was because he was mute, or perhaps because of his introverted nature. The only person who knew the answer was the boy's psychiatrist Dr. Sam Loomis.

The snow fell into blankets outside the sanitarium as a boy of sixteen sat and stared out the window. He was dressed in a grey jumpsuit; his brown hair uncombed. Behind him was a metal table with another chair across from it.

Outside, a nice-looking couple entered the front gate with their twelve-year-old daughter in tow. The young girl was dressed in a white knee-length dress adorned with a Hunter green sash that tied into a bow around the back, white stockings, and black Mary-Jane's. Her light-brown hair was pulled back halfway, secured by a scarlet ribbon. In her grasp she held a Christmas gift of which the wrapping resembled her age.

The family was greeted by a security guard at the front desk, who led them through the necessary paperwork. His nametag read 'Al.'

"Who are you here to see?" he asked, organizing the pages.

"Michael Myers," the father stated, prompting the guard to look up.

"You're his first visitor in ten years. What is your relation?"

"Blood," the father answered, looking down at his daughter.

"I see. And what is that in your hand my dear?" Al questioned, motioning towards the gift.

"It's a Christmas present for him. She made it herself," the mother answered.

"Alright then, everything seems to be in order," the guard said, collecting the paperwork.

"The boy's room is on the third floor, door number 10. His psychiatrist will show you the way."

The family followed Dr. Loomis up to room 10. The elevator ride seemed like forever when at last they reached their destination. Dr. Loomis flashed his badge to the two security guards posted at the door.

"I must warn you, the boy doesn't speak. I've tried to reach him to no avail," the doctor advised the family.

They acknowledged his head and headed inside.

"Michael, you have visitors," Loomis announced. The teenage boy turned his chair around to face them and sat again. His gaze was immediately drawn to the young girl in the white dress, who peaked out from behind her father.

"It's alright, he won't hurt you," Loomis told the girl.

She slowly approached the boy, taking a seat in the chair opposite him.

"I made it myself," she said, placing the gift on the table in front of Michael who proceeded to unwrap it.

Underneath the shiny silver paper was a picture frame with a group of familiar faces. It showed a portrait of five: a father had his arms resting on the shoulders of a young boy, while a teenage daughter stood by a woman cradling a newborn girl. They were all smiling.

The boy looked at this girl, so fair and sweet. She smiled but he remained expressionless, his steel gaze piercing through her childlike exterior. In an offer of kindness, she reached for his hand. Michael recoiled, pulling it back into his lap, and turned his gaze downward.

The mother and father looked at Dr. Loomis who suggested they take their leave.

"Come along Laurie," they said, beckoning their daughter.

She looked at her parents and then back at the boy, whose gaze remained aimed at the floor. In a final bid of affection she leaned in close, whispered "Merry Christmas Michael," and placed a kiss on his cheek.

The boy did not flinch. And with that, the Strode family headed back home.


	7. Hillcrest

_October 13, 1998_

Aside from being the headmistress of Hillcrest Preparatory Academy, Laurie also taught a Senior English class. It had always been her favorite subject at Haddonfield High, and she was grateful that she got to teach something she loved.

The fourth period bell rang as Laurie took her place at the front of the room, while her students filed into their seats. John took one in the back.

"Good afternoon class!"

"Good afternoon Ms. Strode," the students echoed back.

"Today we will be analyzing T.S. Eliot's poem _The Hollow Men_ in preparation for your upcoming midterm next week" Laurie announced.

Her class responded in a choral groan.

"This shouldn't come as a surprise if you all did your assigned reading."

Laurie gently paced the front of the room and continued.

"Remember for the midterm I will ask each one of you two questions. One will be based on literal meaning and the other on deeper analysis of a poem or short story we've covered thus far. You will be graded based on your responses. Now, who wants to start?"

The class stared at her in silence.

"Okay, I guess I will. Who can tell me what T.S. Eliot meant when he wrote ' _we are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men?_ "

After some timid eyes darted around the room in hopes someone, anyone, else would answer the question, a blonde girl's hand raised from the middle row.

"Yes, Allison?"

"Eliot was saying how the hollow men, although stuffed like scarecrows, don't have any souls."

"Correct! Good Allison," Laurie praised.

"Would anyone else like to expand on that?"

A boy named Henry shot his hand up from the left side. Laurie called on him.

"Eliot also mentioned that these 'hollow men' live in nothingness, as he wrote they're ' _shape without form, shade without color'_. It's almost as if they're not even human, but rather just a void of darkness."

"That's a very interesting analysis Henry. Would someone else…"

Laurie's voice started to slip from John's senses as he stared out the back classroom window. He was a good student and usually paid attention but something caught his eye on this afternoon. He wasn't sure but he could swear that a figure in a dark jumper was watching the school from across the street.

"How about you John?"

"John?"

His name echoed in his ear and brought him back to reality. Most of the class had turned around by this time and was staring at him.

"Oh sorry. What was the question?" he asked, trying to get back on track.

Laurie sighed. It wasn't like John to drift off in the middle of lessons. But this was hardly the time and place to discuss the matter. She put her frustrations aside and repeated the question.

"What did Eliot mean by the final line: _this is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper'_?"

John looked out the window again but the man was nowhere to be found. Collecting his thoughts, he answered.

"I think he was trying to say…

The lunch bell rang, startling him and drowning out his answer. It didn't go unnoticed though, and Laurie asked if he could stay behind for a bit. She made her way through the rows of desks towards her son as the rest of the class gathered their belongings and filed outside.

She put a hand on John's forehead.

"Well you're not sick," she said half playful, half concerned. "And you're not one to daydream, so tell me, what was that all about?"

John hesitated to say. He knew this topic upset his mother but he didn't want to lie.

"I thought I saw someone standing across the street. A man. He was watching the school."

Though the news didn't come as a surprise, Laurie steadied herself as she sat in the chair next to John and took in a shaky breath. She couldn't believe the words made it out of her mouth.

"I've seen him too. I mean, I think I have," she admitted. "But Dr. Wallace wouldn't believe me."

The silence gave Laurie pause until John took her hand.

"I believe you. And I know you're just trying to protect me but I can't let you face him alone," he said, trying to keep his voice down.

Laurie shook her head and looked her son right in the eye.

"If you try to be a hero, he will kill you. Do not give him that chance."

"But…"

"No! John I need you to promise me."

He could see the fear and determination in his mother's eyes and knew she wasn't kidding.

"I promise, mom" he responded.

The bell rang again as to signal the fifteen minutes between lunch and fifth period students had to change out their books and get to class.

"Time's up" Laurie said, trying to joke around. Humor had always been Laurie's shield against uncomfortable situations. She went to her desk and rummaged around for a piece of paper and signed her initials on it.

"Here," she said, handing it to John. "A pass to eat lunch in 5th period, now hurry up."

Slip in hand, he collected his things and started to head out the door when Laurie called out,

"Oh John!"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow's Friday? Yes. I just remembered I'm having something delivered to the house in the morning and I need to sign for it. So you take the Jeep and I'll be here around ten."

"Ok. See you later."

Laurie bid goodbye to her son as she tidied up for the next class. It was an unusually warm day for the month and the sun was streaming in through the back window. Reaching for the curtains, the foreboding twinge returned as Laurie glanced outside. In the sparkling haze of the sun, she could swear she saw a dark figure standing across the street.

And as it pierced its gaze in her direction, the final line from Eliot's poem echoed in Laurie's head:

 _This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper._


	8. Old Friends (Part 1)

_October 14, 1998_

 _7:36 am_

The doorbell rang in a pleasant chime. Laurie placed her coffee mug on the dining room table and headed for the door.

"Package for Laurie Strode?" the deliveryman asked.

"That's me," Laurie answered as she signed the clipboard.

"And if you could put it in the basement, that would be great."

"Sure thing ma'am," the deliveryman complied, as he grappled with the rather large package and followed Laurie to the basement door.

John grabbed the Jeep keys and a banana as he whizzed pass, only stopping to comment on the size of the package.

"Jeez mom, what'd you buy?"

"Aren't you going to be late for school?" Laurie countered. She'd tell John what she purchased later. No need to delve into the details now.

"Yeah. Um…see you there," John said, wondering why his mom wouldn't tell him. No time for an inquisition though. Or he would be late.

The deliveryman set the package in the basement and helped Laurie unwrap it.

"You need help setting it up ma'am?" he asked.

"No, I think it should be pretty straight forward. I have the directions. Thank you for bringing it down here," Laurie said, as she led him back to the front door and bid him a good day.

 _8:44 am_

Laurie laughed with confusion as she tried to understand the directions. There were more parts to this thing than she had assumed. She was about two-thirds of the way to completion though, when the foreboding twinge returned again. She ignored it, only to be met with a ' _galumph'_ sound coming from upstairs.

Laurie stopped in her tracks.

Maybe the deliveryman forgot something, she thought, trying to rationalize the noise.

It was a ridiculous thought, she knew, but she tried anything to keep from losing her composure.

Why did I send John to school ahead of me? Laurie pondered, wishing her son was here for backup.

Maybe it was John who'd forgotten something. Yeah, that's it. But she wasn't taking any chances. So with a screwdriver in hand, she crept up the basement steps.

"Hello?" she called out, hoping for a friendly response.

Nothing.

"John, honey, is that you?"

Laurie's voice shook a little now as she steadied her grip on the only weapon she had.

"John?" she repeated.

Nothing.

She had made it to the basement door. The question was if she dared to open it. Her free hand slowly reached for the door and began to turn the knob.

Laurie peaked from behind the wooden barrier to find a familiar shape sitting at the breakfast nook. He placed his coffee cup down, looked her square in the eyes and bid her a cheeky hello.


	9. Old Friends (Part 2)

"Sam?" Laurie questioned, startled to see the man who had saved her life on two occasions.

"You really should keep the front door locked," he said and sipped more of his coffee. He was quite composed for a man who had faced evil incarnate, time and again, much unlike his scarred face, which bore the effects of having survived the Haddonfield Memorial fire.

Laurie stood in disbelief. She always assumed he was dead.

"Let me preface your next question with some answers," Loomis said. "After recovering from the burn unit I went into hiding, gathering all the information about Michael and yourself that I could. That is, until I learned that he was after Jamie - my condolences by the way – and that she was a twin. It is in my best interest to keep the boy safe and put an end to this nightmare once and for all."

Laurie took in the information before asking the one pertinent question in all of this.

"Who told you?"

"The papers" Loomis answered in deflection.

"I requested that the hospital seal the birth records. The only announcement in the paper was that I died in a car accident, which brings me back to the original question: who told you?"

Dr. Loomis sighed and looked his friend in the eye.

"Jimmy. He told me the night he died in an effort to keep the children safe. You'd already divorced. After he died, Jamie was sent to live with the Carruthers family and you'd moved here with John. Michael obviously found out and tracked Jamie down. Now he's finishing what he started."

Laurie took a seat at the table, unable to steady her stance. She looked at the man before her, who's record was less than stellar. Yes, he'd protected her from Michael, but he had failed to protect Jamie. How could she be sure they'd be able to save John?

The only thing she was sure of was that she needed time.

"I have to get to work," Laurie said. "Come by tonight around 8."

Laurie locked the door behind him and headed to back down to the basement. She finished assembling the set and glanced at her watch. It was 9:03. She had just enough time for a quick one.

She gripped the top bar of the framed equipment with both hands, making sure to breathe throughout, and slowly lifted herself into a pull-up.


	10. Battle Scars

_October 14, 1998_

 _6:45 pm_

Laurie grunted as she forced her body to pull up its own weight more times than it was capable of. Her arms ached but she fought through the soreness. She'd been at this for the past forty-five minutes, alternating with sit-ups, with a few two-minute breathers in between.

Her fingers finally gave out and she dropped to the mat underneath. She lay there for a while, her chest heaving heavily and her body glistening with sweat. She recalled the conversation with John earlier when he realized what his mother had purchased.

" _You bought a workout set?" he inquired, as the flicked on the basement light._

" _Yep."_

" _Why?"_

" _I think you know the reason," Laurie answered. She looked her son in the eye with brutal honesty._

" _You're insane!" John said, heading back up the basement steps with his mom right behind._

" _You really think you can take him on?"_

" _I'm not running this time," Laurie responded, and she headed into her bedroom to change._

The last piece echoed in Laurie's head for a while. The 31st was just two weeks away. Could she really take on her brother? Maybe John was right.

She considered it while she showered and dressed.

 _8:00 pm_

Dr. Loomis was right on time. Laurie invited him in and offered a drink.

"Brandy, if you have it."

Laurie got out two tumblers and filled them up.

"There's more where this came from," she said, as Loomis sat at the breakfast nook and Laurie across from him.

"Is John here?"

"No. We had an argument so he went to a friend's house to calm down."

"What about?"

"It's not important." Laurie said.

They both sipped their drinks in silence before Laurie continued.

"Why are you here?"

Loomis was taken aback by the question, but he tried to answer it as best he could.

"Isn't it obvious? To save John."

Laurie didn't appreciate the artificialness of his answer. She was looking for the truth.

"No, I mean why now? Before today, I thought you were dead. What brings you back?"

Loomis shifted in his chair before delivering the truth.

"You."

"Me?"

"A few weeks ago I received a phone call from Dr. Ray Wallace. He said that during your last session, you mentioned having seen Michael. Knowing our history, he contacted me in hopes of getting through to you. But there is a difference between Dr. Wallace and myself, Laurie…" Loomis admitted.

"And what is that difference?" Laurie asked.

"I believe you."

Laurie took in all the information and the rest of her brandy before responding.

"Sam, I'm not the same girl you rescued from certain death twenty years ago. I don't need to be saved."

Laurie stood now to refill her glass. She offered more to Loomis, who declined.

"I know," Loomis replied. "But I need your help to finally take him down. You and I…he's fixated on us. He won't stop until we're dead."

"I know," Laurie said, now completely sure of her most recent purchase. She looked Dr. Loomis in the eye, unable to ignore the slightly healed burn marks.

"But you and I…" Laurie started, swirling her second drink.

"…We have something in common. Something no doctor or psychopath can ever deny. We have history tattooed on our flesh. And it can never be rewritten."

Loomis smirked at the realization of what she meant, and hoped that this would be the end.


	11. Psychosis (Part 3)

_Oct. 15, 1998_

 _7:30 am_

Laurie steadied her pace as she rounded the last block of her neighborhood. She trampled leaves under the soles of her sneakers that crunched with the sound of autumn. There was a slight breeze today but the sun was out and it beat on her skin, determined to slow her down.

It was a pleasant morning as she jogged passed the mailman, dogs out for walks, and family caravans desperate to get to soccer practice on time. Laurie was grateful John was never into soccer or any sport for that matter. He preferred video games and secretly played shoot em' ups behind his mother's back. Laurie kept her gaze straight ahead now as she made a mental note to talk things over when she got home, which was just beyond that hedge.

Hedge?

Laurie slowed to a stop. Her neighbors didn't have a hedge. They had a sprawling apple tree that would shed its fruit on her back lawn, but no hedge.

She looked around the neighborhood, which she now realized was barren. The same leaves crumpled underneath her but there was not a soul to be found.

 _Maybe I took a wrong turn_ , she thought, as she made her way to the street sign. _Maybe this isn't Dryden Avenue._

Laurie approached the familiar blue sign with pause. She knew her neighborhood like the back of her hand; she'd lived here for ten years. How could she have taken a wrong turn?

These thoughts ran through her mind as she looked up and was met with the words Maplewood Drive.

She looked at the hedge again and could swear she saw a man standing just beyond it. He was staring at her in a familiar white mask.

Laurie ran now, quickening her pace as she dared to look back only once. The man had vanished. _This has to be a dream_ , she thought as she swiveled her head around, failing to notice the person coming from the other direction.

 _OOF!_

"Sorry ma'm, didn't see you there," the jogger said, helping Laurie up. She was so engulfed in the collision that she didn't even wince at the scrape on her forearm.

"You're bleeding!"

"What? Oh, it's just a scratch. I'm sorry I didn't see you." Laurie finally said, disinterested in the small talk.

She looked back again but the hedge was gone. This was indeed Dryden Avenue.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?" the man repeated.

"Yes, uh, sorry again. It was my fault," Laurie stammered as she headed back home.

John was seated on the couch watching reruns as he slurped the rest of his soggy cereal when Laurie came in the front door.

"Mom, how was your run?" he asked, muting the TV. He was in a better mood than last night.

"Hmm?" Laurie answered, not really hearing him. She headed to the bathroom and examined her arm.

"I said how was your-

John stopped when he saw the blood.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Laurie muttered under her breath, though it was the truth. She wasn't sure what had transpired out there on Dryden Avenue.

"Was it a bicyclist?" John asked.

"No, I wasn't paying attention to where I was running and I bumped into another jogger. It's just a scratch, honey. I'll be fine," Laurie assured her son.

"What'd you do last night?" she asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Tate and I ordered some pizza and watched the _Alien_ movies. Are you sure you're alright?"

Laurie affixed a bandage to the wound and reassured John for a second time.

"I have to get ready for Dr. Wallace," she said. "I'll see you later.

Laurie entered Dr. Wallace's office for what she knew would be the last time. She signed the check-in sheet, bid hello to the receptionist, and pushed open the cream door.

"Ah, Laurie, right on time," Dr. Wallace said, looking up from his chart just long enough to gauge his patient's state of mind. It was usually written on their faces. But today, Laurie was calm as she settled in to the auburn suede chair and placed her purse on the floor.

She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands together, waiting for the psychiatrist to speak.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, gesturing towards the bandage on Laurie's arm.

"Oh this? It's nothing," she responded.

"Scrapes don't magically appear Laurie. Want to tell me what happened?"

Laurie shifted in her chair, which was not easy due to the soreness in her legs from this morning. She winced a little and it was all Dr. Wallace needed.

"What happened?" he repeated.

"I was out jogging this morning and I bumped into someone because I thought I saw-

Laurie paused, recalling her last session with Dr. Wallace. He would certainly think she was crazy if she told him the truth. But was it? She still wasn't entirely sure what happened.

"I just had some déjà vu that's all," Laurie said.

Dr. Wallace adjusted his glasses and consulted her chart before speaking.

"Laurie, do you know why you're here?" he asked.

"Because I'm crazy," she answered honestly.

"No. You are here because you suffer from PTSD, which unlike the ambiguity of being crazy has a measurable and treatable outcome. You are here, not by referral, but by your own recourse. But I cannot help you if you don't talk to me."

"I saw him," Laurie said defiantly, her gaze not wavering from Dr. Wallace's.

"I was back on Maplewood Drive in Haddonfield. It was daytime, October 31st, 1978. I saw him staring at me from behind my neighbor's hedge. And then he vanished. That, Dr. Wallace, is what happened this morning."

"It seems to me that you're trying to outrun your past," Dr. Wallace claimed.

"But I'm not," Laurie interjected. "I've just been lucky enough to cheat death twice. But I'm done running."

Dr. Wallace now got a concerned look on his face, clearly misunderstanding Laurie's words.

"You mean you're going to-

"Just don't be surprised if you see my obituary in the paper. Goodbye Dr. Wallace, and thank you for everything."

Laurie rose and shook the doctor's hand and headed out the door, unaware of the phone call her psychiatrist was placing this very moment.

The operator tone buzzed for a while as Dr. Wallace was connected to the Somerset Sanitarium.

"Yes, this is Dr. Ray Wallace. I'd like to place a patient of mine on suicide watch. Laurie Strode. Her address is 4513 Dryden Avenue."


End file.
